Day 47

Happy Shakespeare’s birthday!

I directed the first Shakespeare in Newnan, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, in 1978. I directed the last, The Taming of the Shrew, in 1999.

I say “last,” but that’s just a bitter, depressed guess: the Newnan Theatre Company has been served eviction papers from the building, they haven’t paid the rent in over a year, and the board has voted to vacate. My understanding is that they intend to go on, somehow, but I know no details.

This has disturbed me a lot more than I thought it would, and more than I think it should. I guess I have enough vanity to be disappointed that something I spent nearly 30 years of my life building should come unravelled within five years of my leaving it, and leaving it on sound footing, I might add.

We had money in the bank, full houses, and a growing subscribers list. We had a Main Stage season, the Second Season, and the children’s season, and a teen season. We performed more than 40 weekends out of the year. There simply were no more weekends in the year to squeeze in another show.

We did Shakespeare. We did musicals. We encouraged new works. We experimented with new forms and approaches. We built our costumes and sets. We designed our costumes and sets. We trained people in all the crafts of theatre. We did theatre, not put on plays.

Ah well, easy come, easy go. I may have more to say later, over at lichtenbergian.org.

50 days: Almost

My goal this week is to finish III. Allegro gracioso, which means essentially getting it orchestrated.

This morning I got all of it done except for the last big bit, and I want to dig in and listen to what I’ve got so far before tackling it.

A week from today, the countdown will be 42 days, which is the number of days in GHP, so it’s kind of a temporal mirror thing I’ll have going on here. Now it gets scary, because the following week will be more or less lost to me: Tuesday and Wednesday nights, my regular composition nights, I’ll be in Atlanta with the STAR program, so I won’t get any work done at all on my nemesis, IV. Lento.

However, I have to say that in listening to what I’ve got (and it’s all in tatters now with all the crap I’ve inserted and left lying around), I’ve swung back into the mindset that it’s not so bad after all. May Apollo keep me in that mind.

Also, as long as we’re counting days, the last six or seven days will also be lost, because I will be in Valdosta setting up GHP. I will not be composing anything at that point. That leaves, what, about 35 actual days? Sheesh.

Am I disappointed that I won’t have a complete symphony by June 2, the day I leave for Valdosta? A bit. But I’ll be happy to have the final two movements done, and maybe I can get at least a sketch for the first done while I’m there.

The second? Slow movements have been my downfall forever. However, I did come across this sketch from previous thinking, and you know what? It’s not too bad a beginning, I think.

54 days: tiny steps

Despite allergies that will not let go, I was determined to get some work done tonight, and I did.

It was not much at all, but tiny steps are better than lying down and whining about only having 54 days left to finish two movements.

For the Lento, I was able to suggest a couple more approaches to thematic development, on paper at least. My problem at this point is that I’ll have to scrap what I’ve got so far in order to use any of the new stuff, because wedging it into what is already there is just not practical. Maybe I’ll just print it out at school and literally cut and paste it into the new configuration.

I keep hearing fully articulated, traditional, organic development at the edges of my consciousness, but not front and center enough for me to be able to transcribe. It’s very frustrating. What I get onto paper is stodgy and strophic when it needs to be fluid. I will persevere.

When I’d had enough of that, I went back to the Allegro gracioso and began to orchestrate in earnest. I got three strophes done that sound very nice. I think I’ll tackle the end next, and then work my way back from there.

I am assisted in this movement by some Johann Strauss scores in Google Books. It’s very helpful to see how he’s orchestrated his greatest hits, even if mine sound completely different.

Still no mp3s.

59 days: on the road

We’re headed up to Guilford for the weekend, and that means I won’t get any work done on the symphony while we’re gone. I am carrying the score for III. Allegro gracioso with me so I can make notes as I listen to it on my iPod, but I doubt I’ll get anything real accomplished.

Listen to Prairie Home Companion tomorrow night and let me know if I won the sonnet contest.

60 days

I revisited IV. Largo yesterday and just started plugging in some new stuff. You may recall that I had a sweet little variation that I had plugged some weeks ago and wasn’t sure I liked. I still not sure about that, and now it’s got two more bits plugged in after that. I’m creating this Frankenstein of a score, all kinds of crap just stitched together. It’s getting less organic by the minute. But I’m going to try just sticking stuff in there and then taking stuff out. However, my major accomplishment yesterday was to realize an ending for III. Allegro gracioso. I’m not telling you what it is. I can now start orchestrating for real, and you’ll hear it when I’m done. I think it’s going to surprise you.

I’ve been getting The Atlantic for a couple of months now. Some airline that I had a few points with sent me a letter saying I needed to get rid of them, and here were all these magazines I could get for free. So I loaded up: Architectural Digest, The Week, Time, Bon Appetit, and The Atlantic.

The articles are good, usually, but what caught my eye yesterday were the ads. Not the ones up front, the full-page numbers from national corporations that are sandwiched in between the lead articles. No, I finally noticed that the back third of the magazine goes from a two-column layout to a three-column, and the editorial content is shoved to the center and the outside column is given over to advertisement that, taken as a whole, give you a pretty good snapshot of the kind of person The Atlantic‘s ad sales division is convinced reads their magazine. Or at least has convinced these advertisers.

A tour: a book ad for Who’s your city?, by Richard Florida, the man who gave us “the creative class.” Now he’s trying to show you how you, as a member of the creative class, can decide where to live. www.WhosYourCity.com. I smell marketing.

Full-page ad from Oxford University Press with their latest offerings: Fixing failed states: a framework for rebuilding a fractured world, Fair trade for all: how trade can promote development, The bottom billion: why the poorest countries are failing and what can be done about it, How to change the world: social entrepreneurs and the power of new ideas, and In defense of globalization. Sorry, no more books for me.

StressEraser. Grundig shortwave radios. Another book, 10 excellent reasons not to hate taxes, from The New Press, a “short, snappy, essential handbook that counters the anti-tax, anti-government rhetoric that permeates our culture.” Tempting, but no more books.

Gary Weeks & Company, furniture makers.

“The World’s Most Wonderful Enamels: 800 original designs of art, science, and culture. Visit us on your trip to Alaska.”

w. end ave: an e-journal of culture & politics (That was the entire ad.)

Another book: Blessed unrest: how the largest social movement in history is restoring grace, justice, and beauty in the world. From Penguin Books. Sorry, no more books, and also, I must have missed the evidence in my world because I cannot think what this social movement might be.

The HP Printing Mailbox with Presto Service, so you can spam those aged relations who don’t want a computer. (It took me a moment to realize: it’s a color fax machine.)

Some garish rings from John Christian Designers & Craftsmen.

An interesting painting of a tiny figure on a beach, approaching an enormous man, loinclothed and topknotted. THINK BIG: The thief of Baghdad special edition DVD, from the Criterion Collection.

The Bow Tie Club. (We’re getting into the really small ads now.)

SnowLion Expeditions: Bhutan, Cambodia, China, Everest, India, Japan, Koreas, K2, Mongolia, Tibet, Vietnam.

Some more books…

Hats! Panamas, Akubra Hats (?), more, from David Morgan.

Daffodil bulbs. A kik-step! Inuit art. Cruises on what appears to be a three-masted yacht. Upton Tea Imports. Andrew Sullivan.

More books: Harvard University Press, University of Wisconsin Press, Grove/Atlantic Press.

Special introductory price! $19.95 (reg. $39.50-49.50) for 100% cotton pintpoint oxford dress shirt! Paul Frederick Menstyle.

Endless Pool! (I really want one of these.) CoffeeMakersEtc. Grace Rare Tea. The Wallet Pen: now, you always have a pen! (One of Oprah’s favorite things!)

Retire to Fearrington: a charming country village near Chapel Hill, NC, with bluebirds, belted cows, and fascinating people of all ages. (I’ve actually seen billboards for this one.)

And we’re done. There is the whole “emporium” section, where you can find pheromones, Celtic jewelry, handcrafted wooden jigsaw puzzles, 14K gold eagle rings, and cufflinks made from Yankee Stadium seats, but on the whole, I think we now have a pretty good idea of the kind of person who reads The Atlantic.

61 days: more productivity

I was very productive today, albeit not entirely with the symphony. I got the herb garden mulched, I got new life insurance, Marc and I checked out the new parks downtown as performance venues, I did a lot of reading (War & Peace and the Dissanayake), and I almost went to the auditions for David Wilson’s 4th of July play, but I forgot about them until too late.

With the symphony, I did listen to III. Allegro gracioso while I drove around town, but am no closer to an ending.

I decided to work outside the score on IV. Largo, trying, as I’ve said previously, break up the agitato motif and create a workable theme with it. I’ve filled a page and a half with “abortive sketches,” one or two of which show promise. I had to keep stepping back and reminding myself that the theme, whatever it ended up being, had to elicit some kind of triumphant, joyful feeling. I think I’ve got some bits to do that with now.

Part of what helped was also listening to Dvorak’s Symphony No. 8 as I drove around, listening once again to how he did it. (It is also in G major, interestingly.) I pulled out my copy of the score this evening and studied some pieces that had struck me earlier in the day; I’m not sure I learned anything concrete, but that’s my lack of academic training in such matters.

Anyway, I’m hearing some bits more clearly now, and I may go back to IV. Lento tomorrow and see what I can put into practice. No mp3s tonight.

62 days: some productivity

On III. Allegro gracioso, I accomplished a few things, fiddling with orchestration here and there, plus tweaking that big finish strophe so that it repeats. No ending yet, but I’m thinking I need to listen to it about a dozen times to see how it might end. There’s still the threat of a total revamp, from J. Strauss to R., but if it will come, it will come.

I also whacked out about six measures of Fanfare for Double Bass Duo & Percussion. We’ll see about that one.

I also got a sonnet blocked out for Prairie Home Companion’s contest. I’m afraid I’ve worked myself into a couple of rhyming corners, and of course it doesn’t say what I want it to say yet, but I have until Friday to polish that off.

All in all, a good day. But IV. Largo still looms.

63 days: A concept

I got email yesterday from Dianne Mize, my painting teacher from my summer at GHP, a newsletter kind of thing reminding us of her blog, where she posts a painting every day. Not that that kind of productivity depresses me or anything.

Anyway, as I scrolled through, lusting after her work, and her work habits, one of her posts led me to this website/post, and the concept of notan: light and/vs. dark in a composition. For Dianne and Robert, of course, the concept is literal in a visual sense.

But I began to think about notan in terms of sound and orchestration. The more I have listened to symphonic works recently in order to glom how they do it, as George Lichtenberg would fret, the more I pay attention to the clarity of the orchestration. I’ve talked before about trying to avoid the problems that Robert Schumann had in layering too many instruments into a passage; I don’t think I’ve been able to avoid them.

On the one hand, as I’ve listened, the strings are the bedrock of the symphony. They play practically all the time in most pieces, and the violins in unison more often than you might think. On the other hand, sometimes they step into the shadows and allow the other sections or soloists to have a moment in the light.

I’ve got the concept. Where I think I have failed in the execution is in setting up themes in a way that these moments of light and dark occur organically. I still feel as if, in IV. Lento especially, I’m writing too strophically. The fact that I can label each pass through a theme with a nickname means that it’s too segmented. In III. Allegro gracioso, which I swear I’m going to get to work on in just a moment, the name of the game is strophe, although as I mentioned in my earlier post I think I could try breaking those up as well.

Anyway, that’s one of my goals this week is to revisit IV. Lento and see about crushing the thematic material and seeing if something good can come of that.

Now I’m going to work. Really.